The Pope Comes to Turkey

I've lived in Turkey for about three months. In that time, I have primarily stayed in Istanbul (Turkey's wealthiest and most cosmopolitan city), but I have traveled to some religious areas of the country, namely Bursa and other cities along the Marmara Sea.

As I sit watching CNN and BBC coverage of the Pope's visit to Istanbul, I'm left wondering where on earth they found all of these women in tent-like, black chadors. Each clip, thus far, as shown at least two women scurrying around Istanbul like black blobs with their heads bowed. I've seen these women and, ironically, they're not Turkish. They're usually Saudi and they're usually milling around Cartier and other high-end shops in Istanbul. Yes, there are Turkish women in chadors, but they're the exception not the rule.

As a sidenote, it is illegal in Turkey to wear a headscarf in public buildings. No professors, politicians or public servants are to wear headscarfs. This was decided more than 80 years ago when Turkey became a secular state. The current Prime Minister's wife, Emine, wears a headscarf. This is seen as anathema by the country's president, and for that reason, Emine has not been invited to the President's house.

CNN is getting one thing right, though, and that is that the opposition to the Pope's visit. Most people aren't saying much, but those who are want the Pope to know that they didn't appreciate his comments about Islam and terrorism and they don't like him telling the EU to exclude Turkey from membership. One protest banner I saw read, "Pope Benedict 16th, please go home."

Teaching refugees

Today, I began volunteering at a school for refugee children. There, I met a boy named Kebine. Kebine is 12 or 13 (he's not sure), his native language is a dialect of Swahili and he's from Tanzania, in sub-Saharan Africa. Kebine's a shy kid and when he gets nervous, he taps his pencil against his forehead.

I'd like to know more about Kebine, but conversation is difficult because he can't speak much English. We went over a few worksheets together and tried to match words like "west" and "grandfather" and "kite" with pictures. Then we got to the word "member".

"What does 'member' mean?" Kebine asked.

"It's like a group of people who are together for the same reason," I said. I talked about members of a church or mosque. Members of team. Then I noticed that the book used a picture of a family to illustrate the word. I swallowed hard and said, "And there are members of a family. Like a mother, a brother, a sister- they all make a family."

"I don't have members in a family," Kebine said, tapping his forehead hard with his pencil. "My dad's dead."

Since Kebine's not Turkish, he can't enroll in a Turkish school and get a formal education. The hope is that Kebine will learn some English at the refugee school and that the EU, US or Canada will intervene and give him and his grandmother political asylum. Until then, he's in limbo. He works the night shift at a cafe. He has the language ability of a much-younger child. And when he learns what a word means, he makes a sentence that could break your heart.

(Starting today, I'm volunteering every Thursday so I'll write more on Kebine in the future)

Twenty-five. Now what?

Sunday, I turned 25. Big day. Very exciting.

But as soon as I blew out the candles on my cake (thank you, Begum), it hit me: a quarter century has gone by and I still no decisive plan on how to write the great American novel or advance human rights. In fact, the next quarter-century or (eek!!) my lifetime could pass, and I may never do it.

I couldn't sleep last night.

"Zadie Smith was writing bestsellers when she was, like, 20," I mumbled to myself while I looked at her book on my nightstand. "Britney's got a gabillion dollars. And me? I have no definite plan for where I will be in eight months, I'm unemployed and I just spent the majority of my birthday alone. Oh. God."

I breathed a sigh of relief this afternoon after attending my business economics class. In a lecture, my professor mentioned former Fed Chairman Alan Greenspan: "The man was a saxophone player until he was 40! Then he decided to go back to school and get a PhD and then in 20 years he was the most powerful man in America."

Relief. If Al was a late bloomer maybe I can be too.

Not quite. Come to find out Greenspan quit playing the sax around 18 and got a degree in - big surprise - economics in 1948 (he was 22). That same year he took a job at an economic think tank (shocking) and from that point on, he climbed the ladder. It feels like people whose names pop up in Wikipedia knew exactly what they wanted to do by the time they were, like, 11.

But I've just decided I'm not going to worry.

I'm going to sit in my cute apartment, put on my brand-new hot-pink pig slippers (thanks Grandma), play with my new digital camera (thanks Toby) and think about people whose names might not appear in Wikipedia, but whose lives were pretty damn interesting anyway.

A world-class musician

I was feeling a bit homesick a few days ago, so I took the advice of a friend and decided to seek out a truly Turkish experience. This came in the form of an intimate concert bySelim Sesler, the greatest clarinettist I've ever heard.

In a fair world, Mr. Sesler would be famous. As it stands, he's moderately well-known in Europe and recently appeared in a documentary called "Crossing the Bridge". He performs at weddings, bar mitvahs and circumcision parties (yeah, you heard me correctly) and the film made him a bit of a star in Turkey.(I can't pretend I knew any of this before I went to see him. In fact, I went to the show on a whim after a friend invited me.)

Last night, Sesler played before an audience of 45 in a barely-lit, first-floor restaurant in Taksim, a nearby neighborhood. With four musicians flanking him, he exhaled his way through hours of songs that were mostly Turkish, but sometimes had a hint of Russian, Greek or Arabian flair. He went on solo riffs (if that's what you could call them) and even played some jazz-tinged numbers. It was incredible. Toward the end of the night, Turkish ballads starting coming out and that's when the Raki (Turkey's national drink) really started flowing.

Before that point, most of the people in the crowd were politely watching the performance and eating their dinners. My friend Shirin, her Dad, her roommate and I were the first to kick it up a notch when we formed circle near the bar and starting dancing like the bellydancer-wannabees we are. We tried to sing along to a few songs, but since our Turkish is - you could say - limited, we ended up slurring a bunch of vowels together while trying to match a melody. Around 1:00 am, the rest of the crowd finally joined in. The place started to feel like a Mexican cantina, minus the Tequilla and trumpets.

All told, it was wonderful ... my favorite kind of night.

Thanks, Angie, for the excellent advice.

A photo from the night of Sesler's performance.

Missing the US of A

Today, I realized how much I miss America. Between the Dems taking control of the House , Rumsfeld resigning , the mayorship in Chula Vista changing and Britney dumping K-Fed , I really feel like I need to go home.

I love America. I love that- for better or worse- we don't have an inferiority complex. I love our constitution. I like that we're anti-smoking. And that we use words like "great" "fabulous" and "awesome" when other anglophones say "fine." I love that no matter how rich you are, you better curb your dog, say excuse me and obey traffic signs.

My river of missing is running pretty deep right now. I miss the New Yorker magazine and morning walks on Pacific Beach. I miss Ben and Jerry and Oprah. Pop-tarts, processed cheese, peanut butter and chewable vitamins- you are not forgotten. Halloween candy, I won't let this mishap happen next year.

And before I forget, I miss you. I miss whining about my life when it's not the middle of the workday for you and the middle of the night for me. I miss going to Lahaina's and Wine Steels and your couch when I'm down.

But most of all, I miss being in a newsroom on an election day and watching the numbers come in. And I miss that bottle of champagne that a few of you are sipping right now.

First snowy day!!

I woke up this morning, opened the living room blinds and started bouncing around the room. I think I woke up Begum because she called out from her room, "Shannon, it's just snow." Still, I haven't seen snow in years. And it's so pretty ... like cotton falling from the sky. These are pics of what I've been watching for the past hour.

Big flaky snow!!
Snow in trees!!
Snow in the distance (You would normally be able to see the Asian side here)!

Fotolar (Photos)

Bridge between Europe and Asia

Beautiful Istanbul

For all you belly dancers out there

Toby's favorite picture of me (Hagia Sophia and the Blue Mosque are reflected in the sunglasses)

Mom's new ceramic plate