Out with the old, in with the new round 2

Yil Basi kutlu olsun (Happy New Year!)

Where I am this New Years is drastically different than where I was a year ago, and where I will be next year is as of now unimaginable. As the hours, minutes, and seconds tick down I am brought back to everything and everyone that has made up the only 2014 I will ever live through.

This year began in the living room of my Turkish grandmother's living room. I received gifts from my family in a moment of utter surprise and delight. I watched the countdown on the TV with mingling senses of excitement, hope, and submission to the days that would come. The year continued on, paying no mind to my wishes and desires, dragging me along behind it knowing full well I would run to keep up with whatever it subjected me to.

The first five months were spent as you would expect them to be; in Turkey. I had days of loneliness, sickness, and health. I had times of immense laughter, and times of solitude. Turkey was a life-changing experience not just because of the people I met and the language I learned. I grew into myself as a person, and now know that who I am is unchangeable no matter where I am. I drew into myself over the year. Having always been more quiet than some of my friends, I am now more serious than some can deal with. Every day involves me coming to terms with the fact that not everybody will be able to draw me out, and I am OK with that. But all of this constitutes only half of this year. The other six and a half months flew by like a hummingbird to pollen, and I have grown during those months as much as I did in the previous five.  I lost old friends, and gained new ones, I attended my last year ever at summer camp, and became an intern for the Democratic Party's coordinated campaign. From the old friends I learned that not everyone is mean to stay. From the new ones, I learned that connections are insurmountable in their importance. From summer camp I have gained a love for the guitar, memories that will last a lifetime, and a sense of the maternal instinct mothers talk about. From the campaign I met senators, spoke to famous authors, organized rallies, spoke at rallies, and volunteers, dedicated, no matter how hopeless the election was, to encouraging the people of Santa Fe to get out and vote.

This year has seen me get back into the swing of American high school. It has seen me get my first C on a test, mingled with good grades. It has seen a rejection, an acceptance, and a deferment come to my inbox from colleges. I find rejection, as hard as it was, to be an important step in life; at the very least it keeps me humble.

Since January 1st one year ago I have gained twenty pounds and lost it again. I have realized that bodies change, and sometimes going back to what I had before is not possible. I have swam again, not as fast as before, but determined and strong nevertheless. I have compared myself to others in every single way, envying their humor, their intellect, their strength, their seeming lack of awkwardness whatsoever. I have compared, and I have reprimanded myself. This is me, I am loved.
Above all else this year has been love. Love from and for my Turkish family and friends. Love for my country. Love for every country I hope to go to in the future. Love for my family and friends in the U.S., who have supported me through everything. Love of life. 2014 saw some big changes in the political arena, but for us minions, what will stick in our heads the most is the changes that took place directly in our lives. I love, I have loved, and I will keep loving as long as it takes for my love to run out. 2014 is over, we cannot alter the events that led up to this very moment. All we can do is march on and out, into the twelve months of 2015.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!!!!

Xoxo,
Izzy

P.S. New Year's resolution? Live and love every moment of every day. The future is indescribably uncertain. All we have is now. Enjoy it!

Our adorable little Christmas tree!

C'est la Vie

Merhaba arkadaslarim! (Hello my friends)

Six months. Six months since the wheels of my plane lifted from the Istanbul runway, only to land on that of New York eleven hours later. Six months since I bid my family and friends goodbye, not knowing when I would have the chance to see them again. Long story short, I miss Turkey terribly. I simit, baklava, borek, dolmuslar, my school, the not-quite-orange trees lining the streets of Aydin, the bustling main boulevard, the sea in Izmir, and on and on. I miss the warm feeling I got when I spoke Turkish, I miss feeling at home in this country that I had met mere months before. I love being home, I do. I love my country, and my heart lies here always. But a part of that heart was left in Turkey on June 12th when I took off. Now, at the end of 2014, with Christmas just passed, and a new year, one full of new experiences, starting in five days, I have decided the time has come to open up about what happened to send me to Aydin from Kayseri exactly one year ago. Read my story, think what you want about it. I learned a great deal from this experience.

I spent three weeks with my first host family. The first three weeks of my exchange year were terribly lonely. My family was extremely kind and welcoming, but the inevitable homesickness and language barrier had engulfed me like a tidal wave does a baby turtle. With a lot of Harry Potter I was getting through though! Until that fateful Friday morning. I had been woken up by the powerful wind and was lying in bed contemplating life when my phone started buzzing with an incoming call. I picked up and was greeted by the voice of my liaison's husband telling me to pack my things and be out of the house in one hour. He would not explain why, simply saying "you need to change host families right now." I hung up and walked downstairs to see if my host mother knew anything about what was happening. What I received as an explanation was a quick word I did to understand and a finger pointing upstairs to pack. I didn't have time to be sad. My anger bubbled up into my throat as the woman who had promised to care for me stuffed my things into my bags haphazardly. She bagged the gifts I had given them, placed my bags in the hall, and shut the door in my face. The woman who the night before had joked and laughed with me set me outside still in my pajamas without a second thought. As I walked downstairs and got into the car of another exchange student's host mother the grief hit me. I sobbed and sobbed as I realized all I had expected and wanted were falling to pieces within one hour. My friend and I made pancakes and sausage for breakfast. We watched TV and spent a few hours in a very comforting "American-style." And then my liaison arrived. I got in her car without a clue as to where I was going, and then it hit. The accusations. The assumptions. My host mother had called at midnight the evening before, apparently crying with a story of looking into my room and watching me strip for a boy on Skype. She said she watched me for four minutes. She named a boy from school, and said I needed to be out of the house by nine the next morning. My liaison did not ask me if this was true. She told me what I had supposedly done. She related to me with quiet confidence a story she assumed to be true because of my "youth." To clear up any confusion, I did not do what I was accused of. I had spent the evening speaking to Jeeda, my Jordanian sister, and my friend who was in Morocco at the time. I had been listening to music and watching Youtube occasionally. Then the internet had shut off, and I went to bed. What my host mother told my program was a blatant lie, and my liaison, the one person who was supposed to support me at all times, abandoned my trust. I was furious and heartbroken. But I moved on. I spent the weekend with a family who I will stay in touch with for the rest of my life. My host sister holds an extraordinarily special place in my heart, and I will be forever thankful to them for their kindness. Two days later I was moved to my second host family, and the second adventure waiting for me would soon begin.

My second host family had successfully hosted another YES student the year before me. This, and the fact that they are best friends, gave my liaison hope that it would work out. But she told me not to tell them what had happened in my first family, which left them wondering why I had left so suddenly. This added to my liaison telling them to restrict my internet access and my ability to see my friends left them suspicious and questioning of me; not a very solid basis to start a relationship. Three weeks into my stay there (what is with this number??) my host mother stopped talking to me. I should have asked what was wrong. I should have been open to communication. But I was shy and unsure of my ability to be a good exchange student. So I kept quiet. I tried to speak to her. I tried to be kind and helpful. She responded with cold looks and huffy sounds. My host sister soon followed suit in her own way, berating me daily about my supposed stupidness and ignorance. My emotional well-being deteriorated fast. I was restricted from participating in a volunteer program I had found, and I was losing interest in getting to know the country I was living in. I called my mom back home one day and got the story out between heart wrenching sobs. She took action as warrior mommy, encouraged me to do the same, and together we pressured AFS to move me to a different city. As we waited for a response we discussed other options. My Jordanian sister's family in Amman was excited and willing to host me, and if I had said the word, I could have been on a plane over there in an instant. When I was told AFS would move me to Aydin within two weeks, I had a decision to make. Jordan where I had people who already considered me part of their family, or Turkey, where I didn't know a person in the new city I would be in. I chose Turkey. I chose Turkey for the language, for the program, for the group of Americans that were like my family, for the commitment I had made, and for the excitement with which I had arrived three months later. My host family did not react kindly to the news of my departure. They accused me of running away, questioning my ability to do well in my chosen area of work (politics) if all I did was run during hard times. I didn't have the emotional stability to tell them whole truth. That what they had put me into a depressed state. That the thought of staying with them and my host mother's coldness made me sure I would be depressed beyond easy repair. I did not want to be completely honest with them, because I still had to live with them for a week before I went to Aydin. So I kept it in. We spent the week in relatively good spirits. They took the opportunity to tell me all the things I had done wrong, and all the reasons their first exchange student was better than me, but with my upcoming departure I didn't let it get to me. My host mother informed me of the things I had done wrong to make her ignore me, chief of them being the fact that I was too quiet. I will refrain from commenting on this. There are not so nice words I could use for this story, but I have left them behind now. So, on December 22, 2013, I boarded a plane in Kayseri and landed three hours later in Aydin. The rest is now history. All that I had wanted at the beginning and more was found in those last five and a half months in Turkey. My love for the country grew to an unbelievable size, and my appreciation for those I encountered will remain with me forever. I found out towards the end of my time there that the lie of me stripping for the boy on Skype had probably been put up to cover the truth; the host grandfather did not like my lack of religion. This solidified my commitment to begin open about who I am, although it still took me a few months to open up about my Atheism to my third family.

What happened in Turkey was hard at times. There were scars that I had to recover from, namely the fear that I would do something, anything, wrong that would anger my third family. This fear stayed with me up until the end. But the decision to stay in Turkey was the best decision of my life.

That is my story. It was not a straightforward year, it was not what I had expected, but I wouldn't change a thing.

Happy Holidays,
Izzy

My goodbye part at school

My mom gave me my very own Kina Gecesi because I had been unable to attend one before I left

Learned how to make pogaca!

Humanity-it's everywhere

Merhaba!
     If this year has taught me anything, it is that no matter what a person's beliefs are, no matter which political party they support, generosity and kindness can come from anyone. I have been on the receiving end of an unbelievable amount of kindness this year, and I look around everyday in awe that I am able to experience it.
     Last weekend my German teacher took my to a small village outside of Aydin to eat a pre-wedding lunch. Twelve years ago she taught in the village, and the groom was the school's principal's son. The food we ate is explained below, I will just say now that it was DELICIOUS. I love food of all kinds, and Turkish food made in the villages is to die for. We unfortunately were forced to choose between the food and the celebrations later that night, and we decided to eat the food. My teacher's reasoning was that I had seen dancing before, but the food was a one time opportunity. I happily agreed!
     During the meal my teacher recognized one of her old students, and she began to speak with him and his family. When they found out I was an American exchange student they insisted on dressing me up in the pants and the head scarf that the middle aged and older women wear for comfort. Before we left they gave me the clothes as a gift as a way to remember them. Below are some of the pictures we took. The well water shown was beautiful and clear, and it made me miss the well we had when I was little. I was also able to hold a ten day old puppy who fell asleep against my chest. It's little paws, the eyes that had still not opened, and the little snuffing sounds it made melted my heart straight through. After the puppy I visited an old lady in the magnificent garden she had planted by hand and spoke to her about her life. She came from Austria during the second world war, and has lived in Turkey since then. Turkey is like the U.S.A. of Europe and the Middle East. There are people from almost every country who have moved here, or whose family moved here, and who now call themselves Turkish. With their pattern of passivity in wars, Turkey has continuously been a safe haven for those escaping dangerous countries. The interesting thing is that no one asks Turkish people where their families are from. If they say they are Turkish, they are Turkish. But when I say that I am American, one of the first questions I get is "where is your family from?" Due to the widely known fact that America is the mixing pot of cultures, simply saying I am American is not enough. This topic has no connection with my day in the village, but I thought it was interesting.
     The people I met in the village were some of the nicest I have experienced. I hope I can visit them again some day, but if not, they will always have a place in my heart, and my memory.
Xoxo, Isabel

Pumping water

The food I ate in the village;
Yuvarlama - meat and flour rolled into ovals and cooked. A tomato based broth is poured over it, and yogurt/ yogurt with garlic is served with it.,
Soup - A tomato based broth (again) with thin, dough pieces in it.
Semolina helva - A desert made from semolina. It is slightly grainy, but sweet.
  Keskek - Wheat and sometimes chicken mixed together into a mush type mixture. While slightly odd at first, it is delicious. Usually served with rice.
 Kuru fasulye - White beans and vegetables in a tomato based brother.
 Meat - Lamb
 Kizartma - Potatoes and vegetables baked in olive oil.

A ten day old puppy

Istanbul is NOT Constantinople

Merhaba!
     Istanbul. We all know the name, we all know the stories. The legendary city that straddles two continents, has been the host of numerous cultures, and displays modern apartment buildings next to ancient castles. Founded in 660 BC under the name Byzantium, it transitioned to Constantinople in 330 AD, after which it served as the capital city of four empires; the Roman (330-395), the Byzantine (395-1204 and 1261-1453), the Latin (1204-1261), and the Ottoman(1453-1922). When the Ottomans conquered the city in 1453, the name was changed to Istanbul, which has remained to this day. Everyone sees a different picture when they hear the name Istanbul- Islam, history, culture, crowded, etc.- but one thing is sure; Istanbul is much more complicated than any person can truly understand.
     My Turkish school plans a trip every year for the eleventh grade classes to Istanbul for visiting universities. The teachers who plan it are incredibly cool and add sightseeing and free time into it as well. I did not hesitate before paying the three hundred and third-five Turkish lira for the trip, for how can I proudly leave this country if I've not seen Istanbul? It was a short and exhausting weekend. A twelve hour bus ride there and back, touring all day, every day, and staying up and talking to my friends every night. Every time we boarded the bus I took the free time to sleep, and as a result I have a very attractive picture of my fantastic new double chin (my hair looks great in the picture though!).
     I will study in the U.S. for university, but visiting the schools in Istanbul was a good opportunity for me to think about spending a semester there in college. We visited Bogaziçi, Koç, Yeditepe, Bahçesehir, and Istanbul Technical University. All five are among the best in Istanbul.
     To save y'all from a second-to-second explanation of my trip, I am posting pictures and descriptions about the famous sights we visited. Istanbul is not for everyone. It's big, sprawling, confusing, and has absolutely horrid traffic. The culture, however, is enough to make the other aspects unimportant for some people. Before visiting, you can truly have no idea how you will react to it, and three days is not nearly enough. I will be back some day!

The Blue Mosque (in Turkish Sultanahment Camii) is the largest mosque in Turkey. No other mosque is permitted to have six spires, for the honor is reserved for the Blue Mosque. It was built between 1609 and 1616 during the rule of Ahmed I.  The english name derives from the blue tiled walls inside the mosque. The Turkish name is in respect for Sultan Ahment, and located in the mosque is his tomb. With the arching domes and multiple chandeliers, the mosque is filled with light... and tourists.

The Hagia Sofia is a sacred center for both Christians and Muslims alike. A Greek Orthodox patriarchal basilica from 537 to 1453, in 1453 it was converted into an imperial mosque. In 1935, after Turkey became secular, the building was turned into a museum in an attempt to make it equal for both religions.

If you were watching the news last summer you are aware of the protests that took place across Turkey. The park behind me in the picture above was where the protests started when a group of police officers attacked protesters protesting the plans to cut down the park for a mall. As the news hit the streets, the protests grew and grew, and eventually encompassed the entire nation, and kicked off an anti-Erdogan (the prime minister) sentiment that has increased as time passes. Being a few months away from my departure to Turkey, I followed the news closely, and being in the 'scene of the crime' was on my bucket list. In front of the park is Taksim Square, famous for its shops, clubs, and old red tram. In both the square and the park there are tiles missing, lamps broken, smoke marks, and missing glass panels from the barriers. It was difficult to imagine the square filled with tear gas and water hoses, but reminders lie all around if you look for them.

The Bosphorus bridge connects the European and Asian continents. The simple, sleek style makes for beautiful pictures, and attracts the attention of thousands of visitors.

The boat tour of the Bosphorus that we took mere hours before our departure to Aydin.  It was one of the only periods of time during the weekend that it was not raining cats and dogs. We were lucky!

The Basilica Cistern is located near the Hagia Sofia. It is a vast, underground cistern, hosting rows upon rows of columns. In the back northwest corner lie two column bases carved into the face of Medusa. One is placed upside down, the other on its side. Visitors walk upon a stone walkway placed above water and fish. When filled with tourists the cistern is spectacular, but if alone I imagine it would be spine crawlingly creepy. 

As I mentioned above, Taksim Square is famous for the old tram that runs along the length of Istiklal Boulevard. It is actually quite dangerous, as pedestrians wander across the train tracks regularly and the din of the crowd can often cover up the sound of the tram. 

The Bosphorus bridge at night. The colors change every few minutes!

Inside the Blue Mosque. It was beautiful inside, the walls covered in blue tiles, the chandeliers hanging throughout the building, but it was crowded with tourists, which made it feel more like a museum than a holy sight. 

Topkapi Palace was the primary palace of the Ottoman Empire between 1465-1856.  At its peak the palace housed 4,000 people. It is now a museum, and was named a UNESCO World Heritage Site in 1985. Being an incredibly strong empire, the Ottomans had no need to show their strength through buildings, with the result that Topkapi is rather simple. The rooms are filled with important relics of the period, including one of the world's largest diamonds, and Muhammed's cloak and sword. 

Dolmabahçe Palace served as the main location of the Ottoman Empire from 1856 to 1922.  It is located in the Besiktas section of Istanbul on the European side of the Bosphorus. As the Ottoman Empire's power was decreasing, the rulers felt the need to show their strength to the world by building a palace in the grand style of Europe. Completed in nine years, the palace is complete with a harem, a gate for boats, and a large hall for guests. In the hall hangs a chandelier that has so many pieces, that it takes two months to clean. As women were not allowed in any public political affairs at the time, an upstairs section was walled off, and fitted with grated windows for them to watch through. It was in this palace in 1938 that Atatürk died, and we were led through his bedroom by our tour guide. 

Love the unexpected

Merhaba!
     My time in Turkey has taught me that not knowing what is going on is OK. I almost never truly know what my next plan is, and I have gotten home multiple times, simply to be picked right up again and driven somewhere else. I make plans for the day, plans that are derailed as I step out onto the street, surrendering myself to the whims of Turkey. If you are a future exchange student reading this, and you, like me before I arrived, enjoy escaping mixups by planning everything, sorry to tell you, but you're out of luck darling. Expect the unexpected when it comes to exchange, and bask in the glory of every beautiful moment you live in your host country.
     While the Turkish Hamam may be the most famous part of Turkey known to foreigners, it is not loved greatly by the Turkish people I know. On the contrary, some people dismiss them as dirty and awkward. Due to this, I had not attended one in the six and a half months since arriving, and I was desperate to do so. Despite my interest, a more pressing matter was that of waxing, and my exchange friends in Izmir referred me to a hamam they had been to. I set off last Saturday morning to infer about my needs, with no thoughts of actually entering the hamam section of the building. I was going to meet my friends later, and didn't want to be late. After walking to the wrong part of the city, I called my friend, walked to another part of the city, and eventually reached the hamam.

The Hosgor Hamam in Karatas, Izmir

     I entered the building with absolutely no idea what to expect. There were women wrapped in towels resting after the hot steam and water, a constant chatter between friends and the women working, the sounds of chairs being moved, of the running water in the next room. I stood by the little window looking into the office, and was attended by an older woman. While I can speak Turkish, I am not perfect, so I proceeded to ask in broken up sentences if they did waxing. The woman confirmed that they did, and led me upstairs to a small room to change. The room was about four by seven feet, had a rickety metal cot, a wooden stool, one size for all sandals, and chipped walls. I was handed a checked wrap, and told to wear only that, so I did. I undressed, wrapped myself in the towel, put sandals on, and headed downstairs. I was pointed to a room in the corner of the building, and when I opened the door, was greeted by the sight of a naked woman being waxed on every part of her body. I lay down on the opposite bed (with a cry of surprise from the woman when I took my wrap off. I guess I wasn't supposed to get completely undressed :P ), and waited for the torture I had heard about for years to begin. I will not go into detail for you. I made myself think of every hero in the books I have read, and the painful endeavors they have gone through, to get myself through it. I braced my hands on the walls, I cried out "Allah'im!!!!"/"Ohmygod!!!!" and almost had a panic attack when the woman attending me wanted to take more off. For all the pain, though, it is worth it. Absolutely worth it!
     After the waxing was finished, I was instructed to wrap myself up, and follow the woman. I guess they just decided to put my through the whole treatment, because I was placed in the hamam next to bowl of running water, and a plastic tray to dump it on myself. I sat contentedly for about thirty minutes, pouring the warm water over the stinging parts of my body, and wondering whether or not I was going to faint from the heat. The same woman who had waxed me then took me into a side room, and performed a three step cleansing process. She began by rubbing a rough scrub over my entire body, taking off the dead skin (there was A LOT more than I thought there was going to be). She then scrubbed me down with a scrubby full of delicious smelling soap, and then rubbed it in with her hands, massaging every part of my body. I was given water, and promised the woman to let her know when I got a boyfriend (she was worried that I was seventeen and didn't have a boyfriend, or anyone close to one). The whole package turned out to be thirty-six Turkish Lira, about fifteen dollars. That's less than one session to wax just the bottom half of your legs in the U.S.! These Turkish prices have turned me into a money hog, and I don't think I will like it when I get back home.
     After my unexpected two hour stay at the hamam, I was late to meet my friends, and I'm pretty sure they were complaining about it :D But they understood once I explained to them, and it made me accept the fact that I do not always have to be perfectly on time. It is better if I am, but the world will not end if I'm not!
     While the massage and water was great, the part that affected me the most was a thought I had while sitting in the steam. I was waiting for the massage, observing the other women with me, and I came upon the realization that it was a woman's world in there. The whole building was filled with women, with no, or few clothes on. In that dreamy room of mist, we lose the separations that apply to us outside. You cannot tell what their religion is, if they cover themselves, if they are married, if they are lesbian, if they are rich, poor, etc. As you sit there in the steamy air, the sound of running water masking the conversations, every woman looks beautiful, no matter their age or weight. Every woman looks like a goddess, and the societal labels that are put on all of us flow away with the dirt and grime. The self modesty that accompanies so many women cannot be applied there, not with the workers rubbing their hands over every part of your body (save the most private part), in front of all the other women. I have been attending a certain Japanese spa in Santa Fe for my entire life, a place where a bathing suit is a choice, and nakedness is the norm. My comfort with my body comes in part from my time spent there soaking in the hot water with women of all ages and sizes. But I had never realized just how beautiful a thing it is, until I had been in a place where comfort with naked bodies isn't very common, and then was thrust into a room full of half naked women. Time away from your usual makes you think about it in a completely different way!
     To close up my post, I insist that every one of you who visits Turkey attend a hamam. If you do not like it based on my description, go anyways. Every hamam is different, and everyone has a different experience. This was just mine!
   Xoxo, Izzy